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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28750893">no stranger to me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/instead/pseuds/instead'>instead</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Riverdale (TV 2017)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Post-Time Skip, but not too serious, fantasizing about your estranged childhood best friend turned coworker: for fun or for profit, season 5 speculation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 03:47:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,568</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28750893</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/instead/pseuds/instead</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“But this <i>is</i> what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?”</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Archie Andrews/Jughead Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>54</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>no stranger to me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>so ras posted <a href="https://twitter.com/WriterRAS/status/1336121060765229056">this still</a> and i saw some insane twitter theories about how archie isn’t *technically* in betty’s room, you guys, it’s jughead’s room too, and that was so hilarious to me that i wrote this.</p><p>you know when veronica was like “less talking, more touching, andrews”? yeah so this is the exact opposite of that ❤️ i’m pretty sure archie says more here than he says in an average episode of riverdale</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jughead’s trying to come up with a good closing line for an email to his academic advisor when Archie knocks on the door. It clicks open before Jughead has the time to respond—Archie’s always had a bad habit of doing that.</p><p>“What,” Jughead deadpans, not looking up. “I’m trying to figure out if I have a proposal due this week.” A beat of silence.</p><p>“Hey,” Archie says. Jughead deletes <em> cheers </em> and writes <em> sincerely. </em>Both of them sound bad.</p><p>“Hey,” he responds absentmindedly, deciding to forgo both for <em> thanks </em> before sending it off. There’s no response, so he finally glances over at the bathroom door.</p><p>“What are you… oh my god,” he says. “Is that your volunteer firefighter uniform?”</p><p>“It’s like, half of it,” Archie says. “I think this would be an OSHA violation, or something.”</p><p>“No shit,” Jughead says. It’s not like he’s not <em> allowed </em> to look at Archie shirtless, but he still feels weird doing it. “I think you’re required to wear a shirt while on duty. Does OSHA even cover voluntary firefighters in the state of New York?”</p><p>“Maybe,” Archie says, “not really sure,” and when he takes the few steps needed to cross the distance to the bed, Jughead steals his helmet off of him and drops it on the floor. “Hey!”</p><p>“It didn’t look good,” Jughead excuses. “I like your hair.”</p><p>“I know you do,” Archie answers, taking Jughead’s phone from his hand and setting it down on the old white nightstand, the one with the paint chips peeling off. “You like everything about me.”</p><p>“Ugh. If you really think I’m going to give you some corny pick-up line about how hot you are, you’re wrong.”</p><p>“I don’t need you to tell me,” he counters. “Through words, that is.”</p><p>“You’re so overconfident,” Jughead murmurs, but lets Archie up on the bed anyway. Archie hovers over him, leaving just a few inches of space without closing the distance. He can feel Archie breathe in and out; just wants him to go ahead and make a move—the anticipation is the worst part.</p><p>“Only with you,” Archie says, which would be embarrassing if Jughead wasn’t so endeared by the sentiment. “And I thought we agreed on keeping things under three syllables in the bedroom. Easier for both of us.” Distantly, Jughead wonders if he and Veronica ever talked like this, or whether this is just a <em> them </em> thing. Not that he’s jealous or anything, but it feels like this is something that’s always existed between the two of them, and he wants to know if he’s crazy for thinking it.</p><p>“Your full name is Archibald,” he says. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself.”</p><p>“Yeah, but it’s not like you ever call me it.”</p><p>“I can start,” Jughead suggests, but loses track of his point when Archie ducks down to press a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “I—Jesus.”</p><p>“Archie was fine, actually.”</p><p>“Insufferable. I can’t win,” Jughead tells him, pulling Archie against him with his god-awful red suspenders. Archie laughs, half-balancing himself above Jughead on one arm.</p><p>“Don’t lie. You never get tired of me.” Jughead rolls his eyes at that one, but kisses Archie to get him to shut up instead because he doesn’t really have a witty comeback. It’s true: Archie could be painting a wall or doing laundry or going through the motions of some other totally mundane household chore and Jughead would still watch him from start to finish. Archie smiles into it hard enough that Jughead pulls back to study his expression.</p><p>“What’s so funny?” Archie shrugs.</p><p>“Nothing,” he says. “I’m just happy.” He kisses Jughead’s cheek and it's somehow more intimate than anything else.</p><p>“Insufferable,” he repeats. So he never gets tired of Archie—it’s not like it wasn’t already obvious. <em> I want you so much you could never imagine what it feels like, </em> Jughead thinks. “Why do you have jeans on? It’s like you <em> want </em>to make this as uncomfortable as possible for me.”</p><p>“If you wanted me to take my clothes off, you could’ve just asked,” Archie says. His eyes shine with a challenge that given literally any other circumstance or setting, Jughead would be happy to take, but his younger sister is, like, two walls away.</p><p>“Okay, watch it,” Jughead warns him. “I told you, this is only my room for the long weekend because Betty isn’t here. Usually I take the couch on break. And I will <em> never </em> get this room again if I do anything on her bed.”</p><p>“Who says we’re doing anything?” Archie asks.</p><p>“Keep going and I’ll be the one breaking my own rule,” Jughead says, “I’m serious, PG-13 at <em> most,” </em> but lets Archie kiss him again, pushing his suspenders off his shoulders and trailing his fingertips back up to settle on Archie’s chest. He may never admit it, but Jughead likes the subtle handoff of control, the inherent closeness of it. He knows Archie’s had a thing about being in control of things like this ever since sophomore year of high school, and it’s comfortable to give him that. He’s one of the only people Jughead trusts enough to feel that way about—and maybe deep down, some part of him wants to prove that Archie likes him just as much as he likes Archie.</p><p>Jughead exhales; feels the edge of Archie’s heartbeat under the palm of his right hand. He probably looks terrible, he thinks, but then decides that it’s Archie, so it doesn’t matter anyway. “So,” he says, breathless. He really does just have this room for the long weekend, and Betty would probably kill him, but Archie could probably get him to forget that.</p><p>“So,” Archie says. “What next? I mean, it is <em> your </em> fantasy, after all.”</p><p><em> What? </em>“What are you talking about?” Jughead asks. If it was his fantasy, he thinks, there’s really no need for the terrible costume.</p><p>“But this <em> is </em> what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it?” Archie asks, as if having read his mind. “Someone who knows you and likes you. Who makes you feel normal. Who you can have fun around. Kind of sad there’s only one person you can imagine having that with.”</p><p>Jughead blinks at him. <em> This isn’t real, </em> he thinks. <em> Oh. Obviously. Of course this isn’t real. </em> “I… already have a girlfriend,” he distantly remembers. He’s 25, not still in undergrad, and he definitely doesn’t live at home anymore. And he and Archie aren’t anything like this—for sure not physically, but not really emotionally, either. “I’m kind of good, thanks.”</p><p>“Your girlfriend doesn’t even text you back,” Archie tells him. “The only reason you’re still dating is because you haven’t been in the same room long enough to break up. But she knows. <em> Everyone </em>knows, even if you won’t admit it to yourself.”</p><p>“Knows what?” Jughead feels sick. He does know. He’s always known.</p><p>“Didn’t you ever think about this at sleepovers?” Archie—or whatever, the personification of his repressed desires who looks exactly like Archie—asks instead. “As a kid, lying next to him with the lights out. When you’d tell each other stories until you got too tired to talk and just stared at each other until you fell asleep. Didn’t you ever want more than that?”</p><p>“I never… that was enough for me,” Jughead says, because there’s no point in trying to lie to his subconscious.</p><p>“Was it, though?” Archie asks. It sounds worse coming from his mouth than it does when Jughead thinks it to himself. “Come on. You won’t even let yourself have this in your <em> dreams.” </em></p><p>“I wanted him,” Jughead admits. “Of course I did. But I never needed anything more from him. I was fine with just keeping it to myself.” Archie makes a noncommittal noise in acknowledgement.</p><p>“You know, usually it ends right around when you become aware you’re dreaming,” he adds.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Jughead’s apartment is totally dark when he wakes up—over the summer he’d tried to train himself to wake up earlier in preparation for the beginning of school, but it never stops being just the slightest bit off. It’s reminiscent of early high school, of waking up early to avoid the janitor. He’d gotten too used to late morning classes in college; now it’s looped all the way back around.</p><p>He checks his phone: 5:30 AM. No new messages or missed calls from Jessica; depressingly typical. A long string of paragraphs from Betty about the truck driver she’d been telling him all about, a case he’d begrudgingly accepted to join her on, even though the concept of <em> investigating </em>feels a little juvenile, now—might as well leave it to professionals like her. She may be undercover, but he’s an actual educator with an actual lesson plan.</p><p>And there’s one last text: <em> Are parent-teacher conferences this weekend? </em> it reads, polite and completely impersonal, so different from how they once were. <em> Didn’t get the email. </em></p><p>Jughead glances at the wall closest to him, at its basic eggshell colour and lack of personality, and thinks of high school: of Betty’s bedroom—his and Betty’s, but mostly Betty’s, feminine and innocent and pink and white, with lit-up block letters spelling out <em> LOVE </em>and polaroid pictures strewn throughout. He can’t remember why, can’t remember what he was dreaming about; just vaguely knows that Archie was involved, but that’s nothing new.</p><p><em> They’re next weekend, </em>he types out and sends, turning his phone off.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>imagine being this repressed. sorry king but it literally could not be me. title from <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JrkXqc1Wi2o">no stranger</a> - small black (real ones know!)</p><p>feel free to leave a comment or say hi over on <a href="https://hefoundme.tumblr.com/">tumblr</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/nymonologue">twitter</a> ❤️</p></blockquote></div></div>
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